Mr. Sun


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I love to tan. I know it’s not good for me, but it seems like it’s the only thing I do enjoyably that keeps me from running to the kitchen. In the summer, some people think I’m not white anymore, and I like to go by different, more ethnic names, because I’m cool like that. My face, shoulders, arms, legs and back are a dark shade of brown, which I like- because dark is slimming.

However, onto quite an important part of my body- my stomach. My stomach has never seen the light. No really. It’s actually whiter than the inside of an Oreo. When I wear nothing, while looking in a mirror (don’t picture it, sorry) I look like a giant Oreo. Seriously, I wish I could describe it, but I won’t. I think the last, or the only time I wore a bikini was when I was two, and was hanging out with my hot skinny self at the beach in Florida. Anyway, this past weekend, I decided that it was time that I expose this white ball of puff to the sunlight. Within minutes, I was instantly burnt. My stomach was instantly attracted to the sun, like they have never met before and they were soul mates. It was like a kid eating candy for the first time, like a skinny person enjoying deep fried food for the first time. It was magnificent. The shower after, however, was far from magnificent. I know I have dark skin, but I really should have put some type of protection on that white pasty bad boy.

Anyway, if I’m being honest. Seeing me with a half tankini on, probably wasn’t a sight to see. But it felt good knowing that laying down, floating in a pool, with half my fat hanging in the water and making me look half skinny, felt amazing.

I’ll keep floating on… with a higher SPF next time. I want to look like a Fudgee-O by next weekend!

Shopping With Ronnie


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This weekend, I did what every girl hates doing. Bathing suit shopping. However, to make it worse, I went bathing suit shopping with none other than my very opinionated, very honest, very Jewish Mother; Ronnie Ginger. Shopping is never fun, especially when the scale has been stalled for three weeks, and I’m feeling especially fatter and unmotivated than ever. My wise mom says that “no one likes to go bathing suit shopping”. In fact, she tried to prove this point! When she noticed a skinny slimmer girl looking through the section, she goes up to this innocent young lady and says “Hey, you’re skinny, you must hate shopping for bathing suits, don’t you? See Hilly, even skinny girls hate shopping for this stuff“. Seriously, what the eff did I get myself into, she talks to strangers, and embarrasses me, and why am I going shopping with her? I turned bright red, and made my oh-so-honest mother walk away from this poor girl.

While we were rummaging the aisles this time, we didn’t pick up any fantaSIZER or moomoo swimwear, and I also didn’t head to the plus size section. Go me! Before I go any further, please keep in mind, that just the sound of Ronnie breathing, makes me want to go on a wild rampage and rip things and smash holes into walls (I have anger problems, shut up). So, while I’m in the dressing room, huffing and puffing, breaking a sweat, Ronnie comes in all giddy and happy and asks me to come out so I can show her how it looks. Is she serious? Like I’m going to come out looking like an overstuffed walrus? Anyway, I get the nerve to come out and strut my stuff, Ronnie is standing there with this look on her face, and I’m expecting something like “NO, change now” to come out of her mouth,  but, I was surprised when she just started smiling and tells me how great I look- seriously Ronnie, what pills did you take before we went shopping?

My non scale victory of the week was that all the bathing suits fit me. I even had to take one in a size smaller because one we picked out was too big. Old me would have NEVER had to change something for the smaller size. Having this type of great feeling, makes me want to get back on track and start to get past this plateau that I am at. The fact that Ronnie and I went shopping and it didn’t result in even ONE fight, was nothing short of a miracle. Seriously, years ago, one of us would have ended up with a black eye and it wouldn’t have been me, just saying.

Tanning Is Slimming


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Now that Hefty Helga has sadly passed on, there is officially nothing in my way stopping me from losing weight. The scale has been at the same place for the last three weeks, and then finally yesterday, when I got on the scale before my scheduled date, it had finally moved down two pounds. I’ll take it, and it’s better than going up two pounds.

I figure that summer is a great time for me to really put my mind to this weight loss again, and actually stick to it. I mean, not only because I’ll be tan, and we all know dark is slimming, but because I’ll have a lot more time to sit outside to tan, than to sit inside and eat snacks all day. Speaking of snacks, snacks are killer. I could just eat snacks all day. Snacks are delicious. Even the word snack sounds delicious, snack, snack snack. I sound hungry, but really I’m full. I just wish sometimes I could occupy myself with other thoughts instead of wondering when my next snack will be.

I haven’t been in a bathing suit since I was at my fattest last year. Well, I just lied. I was in a bathing suit last night. Around my apartment. Alone. Dancing to some Island beats. Just strutting by myself, seeing how I liked it. Genius didn’t seem to think I looked that bad, because he just stared at me panting, and didn’t even bark at the sight of me in swimwear.  It didn’t look that great, however looked better than last year. I wasn’t popping out of all the seams and not going to lie, I actually felt pretty damn good. (Would have looked better with a tan though)

Anyway, dark is slimming, better get back out there in the sun.

The Cowntown Is On


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I guess starting this new journey in my life is kind of scary for all sorts of reason. What will happen when they cut me open, what will happen if it doesn’t work. My biggest fear at this moment is, how to I be a normal person? What is normal? Every summer my entire life, I’ve spent wearing tummy-taming bubby bathing suits, and moomoos to cover me up from sparing the world from seeing what I’ve got hidden under my long drape-like clothes.  I guess I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to wear a bikini. I want the tan lines, and to feel like the rest of the world. So, I settled for what the fat girls need to settle for when they want to feel cool and want something ending in “kini”– I purchased a tankini When Donald Chow and I first went to Vegas in 2011, he kept laughing, and laughing at the word TANKINI. Who wears a tankini? These were the ugliest things I have ever owned and I don’t think I’ve ever been more uncomfortable. To this day, we still talk about that crazy tankini I wore.

What do normal people wear? What do normal people eat? What do normal people say? I’m 25 years old, and still have the maturity level of a twelve year old (According to Mommy Dearest) . Will that leave me, along with the 80+ pounds I need to lose? Will I change? I’m a funny person. I don’t want to lose my sense of humor. Maybe people find me funny because I’m bigger than everyone else, and louder etc.

I’ve got two weeks to start counting down until I’m lying in that hospital bed. I have been waiting my entire life to feel “normal”. I hope I will still be me. I’ll make my own kind of normal.